


Not, as they say, a happy camper

by Andeincascade (Ande)



Category: Bandom, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Podfic Available, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-21
Updated: 2011-11-21
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:05:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/pseuds/Andeincascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt #6 from the Sick!Frank challenge:  teen!Frank is homesick at summer camp. The food sucks (what little he can eat of it what with being vegetarian and all his weird food allergies), he hates his cabinmates, and there are spiders everywhere! Arts & Crafts coordinator Gerard helps him through it. Virgin possibilities here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not, as they say, a happy camper

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[Podfic] Not, as they say, a happy camper](https://archiveofourown.org/works/478811) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine). 



> First, my thanks to the prompter. I never thought I'd write in bandom but you gave me a prompt I couldn't resist. I had the best time writing this.
> 
> I owe a deep debt of gratitude to the lovely Akamine_chan, who not only gave me a swift, 11th hour beta but also fixed all my coding woes so I could post. I owe cheerleading thanks to Aka and to Lucifuge_five. I love you guys.

_Taped to a tin of oatmeal raisin cookies in the top tray of a footlocker:_

_Dear Frankie,_

_I hope you’re settled in with the other boys and are having the time of your life. You’re going to have so many adventures! I always wanted to go to camp when I was your age. My best friend spent her summers at Rainbow Lake Camp and I was always envious of all the fun she had. I wish I could take your place. You could take care of grandma and I could spend my summer hiking and swimming. Ha!_

_I know you wanted to be left home on your own but, Frankie honey, fifteen is just too young. Aunt Marie is simply not well enough to take you, and with your Dad on the road and the Toros working so much overtime, there simply weren’t any other good options. It’s only two weeks and you are going to have fun, baby, you really are._

_I leave for Florida in the morning and the camp director has agreed to get word to you when grandma is out of surgery. The nurse has grandma’s number if you have any problems not covered on your medical form._

_Write me when you have time, Frankie. I want to hear everything._

_Love, Mom xoxo_

 

“Guys! Hey, guys! Gather ‘round, would you?”

Frank rolled his eyes. The cabin counselor, Brendon, was too bouncy to be believed. He was short and dark-haired with knobby knees sticking out awkwardly from loose cargo shorts and a ridiculous grin. He was laughing and joking, trading high-fives with the other boys as they crowded around him and actually flung his arms around this gangly kid with glasses. Frank scooted back further into the shadows of his bunk. Maybe no one would notice him.

“I need you guys to grab your jackets and your flashlights,” Brendon continued. “We’ve got some new buddies in the unit this year and we’re going to play a get-acquainted game down at our fire ring before heading down to the dining hall for supper and evening programs. Ten minutes, guys!”

Frank closed his eyes and shuddered; this was going to be worse than he thought.

“Frank? It’s Frank, isn’t it?”

Oh, fuck. Brendon was standing right in front of Frank, actually bouncing on his toes and practically vibrating with helpfulness. So much for invisibility.

“I’m Brendon. I don’t know if you heard? Um. I gave directions to your mom? Down at the drop off area?” He held out his hand. Frank shook it warily and shrugged, mumbling a hello and then dropping his eyes to the floor again. Brendon had drawn big yellow smiley faces on the sides of his sneakers. “The fire pit is just down the hill, past the unit shelter. Grab your gear and I’ll show you.”

God, his grin was unnerving. “Okay,” Frank said, resigned. He hunched over his footlocker, grabbing his flashlight from the tray before digging beneath for his hoodie.

“Oh, Frank?” Brendon pointed to the tin of cookies. “Those treats from home?”

“Uh, yeah?” Frank scowled, suspiciously. Geez, nosy or what?

“We don’t allow food in the cabins. Raccoons can chew right through your gear and have no trouble pulling the lids off those tins. They make a hell of a mess and they’ll chew up half your clothes, too.” Brendon frowned, then brightened. “There’s a metal cabinet in the counselors’ room where we can lock these up. I’ll put your name on them and get them out for you at snack time when you want.” Brendon held out his hand for the container and Frank bowed to the inevitable.

If cookies were contraband, he was going to have to be a hell of a lot more careful with the cigarettes.

 

_Scribbled on a postcard, under a sleeping bag, by flashlight:_

_TORO!_

_You have to get me out of here!!!!_

_My counselor is a maniac, the food SUCKS, and there are BUGS EVERYWHERE!!!! My bunkmate told me they found SPIDER NESTS in the latrine last summer. I’m gonna piss in the bushes._

_And the campfire tonight! Kum-ba-FUCKING-yah, I am NOT KIDDING YOU!!!_

_I am so fucked. Write me, motherfucker._

_Frank_

 

“Guys? Come on! Lights out means flashlights, too!”

Frank groaned and flung himself on his pillow. Around the cabin, he could hear the other boys settling down to sleep but Frank was wide awake. He stared into the darkness as first one, then another of his cabin mates started snoring. Motherfucker. Frank was an only child. How was he going to sleep in a room of twelve adenoidal teenagers? When his bunkmate joined in Frank gave it up as a lost cause. He shoved his hand in his shorts and angrily jerked off, as night sounds closed around him.

 

Frank hunkered down on the far side of the shower house and dug his cigarettes out of the pocket of his hoodie. They were a little crushed from being crammed in his backpack but he found one that seemed salvageable and lit up, exhaling in relief. It was too fucking early. Frank had lain awake far into the night, mentally plotting the torture and eventual death of his bunkmate, who snored like a buzz saw and flopped continuously in his sleeping bag, shaking the bunk so violently; Frank feared it would collapse and he’d wake up crushed like a bug. He finally closed his eyes when the first hint of dawn was filtering through the trees and then Brendon, god damn him, bounded through the cabin at seven fucking o’clock, clapping his hands and shaking shoulders. Frank threw his pillow over his head and raged silently against the unfairness of it all.

Breakfast did not improve his mood. The scrambled eggs were runny and sat on his plate like a congealed, yellow turd. The toast was dry and when Frank reached for the coffee pot, this blond, bearded motherfucker blocked his arm, grunting, “No coffee for campers. It’ll stunt your growth, kid.” What the fuck, no coffee? Frank was not going to survive this. He eyed his plate sadly, then asked to be excused, determined to enjoy the only vice left to him.

Frank crouched against the shower house wall, resting his chin on his knees and smoking steadily. Could he hitchhike out of here? The highway wasn’t far. He sighed. If he had a better sense of direction, maybe. Behind him, Frank could hear groups of campers gathering and leaving the dining hall. Then Brendon was calling, “Guys! Anyone seen Frank? We need to police the cabin, then it’ll be time for swimming tests!”

Frank stubbed out his cigarette and stood. Things were looking up. Drowning definitely seemed like a valid life option.

 

_Another postcard, written furtively:_

_Dad-_

_Can’t I PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE come on the road with you? I’d be so good and I won’t get bored, I promise. Just, this place, it’s not for me. They wake us when it’s still dark, almost, and I can’t eat ANYTHING and they won’t let me have any ~~fucking~~ coffee, Dad, what the hell?_

_Mom won’t mind. I could be packed really fast._

_They’re making me swim today. I think we both know that won’t turn out well.  
Your son, FOR NOW, Frank_

 

The big, scary, blond dude turned out to be the lifeguard, of fucking course. He had a whistle and a clipboard and serious biceps. Frank had reason to appreciate the biceps when the guy, Bob, hauled him out of the water before Frank swallowed half the lake. Great. Frank had managed to flounder half a lap before needing rescue. Frank wheezed his way off the dock and collapsed, coughing and gasping, on the beach next to the gawky, glasses kid, who had his nose buried in a worn comic.

“McCracken!” Bob called, making a mark on his clipboard. Frank watched as his bunkmate dove off the dock and cut through the water like a shark, swimming easily across the width of the swimming area and back again. Figured. Jesus.

Frank sprawled on the sand and took in the kid next to him. If there was someone who looked like they belonged here less than Frank it had to be this dude. The kid was thin to the point of boniness and so pale he looked like he never saw the light of day. He was dressed in tight, tight jeans and a faded band t-shirt and Frank was not sure the kid was even aware of his surroundings.

“Not swimming?” Frank asked, gesturing toward the lake. The kid looked up with startled eyes behind his thick glasses, seeming to notice Frank for the first time. He shook his head, shuddering a little.

“God, no,” he said emphatically. “Ways don’t like to get wet.”

“Huh?” Frank blinked, confused.

The kid frowned, then grinned a little. “Uh, sorry. I meant me. I’m Mikey Way.” He held out his hand. “Gee and me, we really hate the beach.”

“Frank Iero,” Frank said, shaking Mikey’s rather sandy hand. “Who’s Gee?”

“Gee – Gerard – he’s my brother,” Mikey said. “He’s kinda the reason I’m here.”

Frank squinted in the sun, considering Mikey. “Don’t get me wrong, dude, but this doesn’t look like your scene at all.”

Mikey grimaced a little. “It’s not. But Gee works here as the arts and crafts counselor. And the only thing more boring than camp is being stuck at home all summer while Gee is somewhere else.”

Frank was a little envious. “Your brother must be fucking awesome to make up for this place.”

“Gee is the best,” Mikey said simply.

 

_Another postcard, written at rest hour:_

_Toro –_

_This place continues to SUCK!!!!!_

_I did meet another kid from Belleville. Public school. Who knew they weren’t all assholes? We’re bonding over our mutual hatred for all things camp related._

_This afternoon we’re going on a nature hike. I’m pretty sure that’s code for “let’s get up close and personal with about 10 million mosquitoes.” I should be one huge-ass motherfucking welt by dinner time. Fucking A._

_Frank_

 

“Frank?” Brendon stood by Frank’s bunk with a bottle of pills and a cup of water. “The nurse sent over the Benadryl your mom left for you. It should help with the itching.”

Frank groaned and wished for death. He lay on top of his sleeping bag, arm flung over his eyes and dressed only in his skivvies, unwilling to let anything touch his red swollen skin. “Go away, Brendon,” he moaned. Christ, those motherfuckers must have sucked him dry.

“C’mon, Frankie. I brought some calamine lotion too.”

Frank opened one eye, glaring. “It’s pink.”

“You’ll feel better, I promise,” Brendon coaxed.

 

_In a notebook, crammed in a knapsack:_

_Bert McCracken, DIAF!!!!!!!!! I’ll pink you, asshole!!!!!!!_

_The page seems to have been stabbed repeatedly with a pencil._

 

_In the outgoing mail:_

_Dear Mrs. Iero,_

_Thank you for your call last evening. Frank was pleased to know his grandmother’s surgery was successful._

_Frank is a nice boy and seems to be settling in well, although he is a little quiet. Is he always this subdued? The opportunities at camp can be overwhelming for city boys, at first. I’m sure he’ll find his niche soon._

_Yours truly,_

_Brendon Urie_

 

The arts and crafts cabin was off by itself in a small clearing in the woods. There were work tables fitted on the wide covered veranda and more in the dimly lit interior and everywhere were baskets and boxes and shelves crammed haphazardly with colorful art supplies. But, by far, the most interesting thing in the arts and crafts cabin was Gerard fucking Way.

Mikey’s brother was a little shorter than Mikey and even paler, his face white under a tangle of black, stringy hair. He had bitten, black-polished fingernails and huge dark eyes lined in – holy fuck, was that eyeliner? He was dressed all in black and looked like a vampire in cutoffs. Frank’s dick gave a happy little leap in his jeans and he could feel the tips of his ears reddening. He hastily grabbed a drawing tablet off the nearest work table, along with a couple of pencils, and retreated into a corner, curling up on a bench and trying for invisible.

Mikey had explained that this was Gerard’s second summer as the arts and crafts guy and he seemed to know most of Frank’s cabin mates. He greeted several of them by name and gave Mikey a quick, one-armed hug before asking the boys what projects they wanted to work on and helping them find materials. Frank ducked down behind his drawing pad and started to doodle.  
Frank was fully engrossed in the adventures of Stick Figure Frank, Intrepid Explorer, and his super dog Max, who’d helped Frank vanquish the Spider Monsters and was leading Frank to Freedom when he felt a tug on the toe of his sneaker.

“Hey.” Frank looked up. Gerard Way’s cutoffs were right at eye level. Holy shit. “Some guys are going to be doing some woodblock printing,” Gerard continued. “You want to get in on that?”

Frank glanced over at the work table nearest to him. Mikey and a couple other guys were carefully inking shapes on to what looked to be stationery. The kid nearest to Frank seemed to be doing – _pine trees?_ Frank shook his head.

“Thanks, but pine trees are so not my style, you know?” Frank made sure to look directly in Gerard’s eyes. He did _not_ want to get caught talking into Gerald’s crotch.

Gerard grinned. “They don’t have to be pine trees. You could carve your own design. I can show you.”

Frank gestured with his pencil. “Dude. I don’t want to scare you; but you probably shouldn’t be giving me any sharp objects.”

Gerard snorted and bit his lip, considering. His unnaturally red lips got redder. Jesus.

“I know,” Gerard said, brightening. “Wood burning! You might really like wood burning.”

That made Frank pause. Burning stuff was generally cool in Frank’s book, but then,” No. No offense, but...I’m not really into nature art.” Frank resisted a sigh. Gerard’s amazing cutoffs were going to walk away now.

“It doesn’t have to be nature art.” Or not. Gerard beckoned with his hand. “Can I show you something?”

Frank did sigh then but he got up and followed Gerard into a side room. There was a cot shoved against the far wall, piles of dirty laundry everywhere and art supplies littering every flat surface, especially the floor. There was a collection of crusty coffee mugs next to the bed, some upright, others tipped forlornly on their sides. Fuck, Gerard was a slob. Frank forced his eyes away from Gerard’s bed.

Gerard lifted a large wooden plaque off the wall and placed it in Frank’s hands. Etched into the surface was a perfect portrait of _Batman_. Frank traced the shape reverently with one finger. It was incredibly cool.

“Why Batman?”

“I like comics,” Gerard explained. “I’m going to draw my own one day.”

Frank looked up at Gerard with stars in his eyes. “Frank,” he croaked. “My name is Frank.”

“I know.” Gerard’s grin was lopsided and adorable. “Mikey said you were cool. You can call me Gee. C’mon. There are blank plaques in the other room. I’ll show you how to sand it down and you can start burning next time.”

 

_Written by campfire light:_

_Dear Mom –_

_The food here is really lame. I’m starving!!! I have to notch my belt tighter to keep my jeans from sliding off my ~~ass~~ butt. Don’t bother sending me anything. They’ll just take it away._

_I got sunburned my first day here. I stay in the shade as much as I can. There’s a kid that hangs out with me while the other guys swim. He’s okay._

_My bunkmate is kind of a creep._

_Brendon showed us what poison ivy is. I felt itchy just looking at it._

_I like the art guy. He’s cool._

_Kiss Nana for me. ~~I miss you.~~_

_Love, Frankie_

 

Frank jerked off three times before he fell asleep that night, thinking of dark-rimmed eyes and short shorts.

 

Okay, this was so not his fault. Frank lifted his hand out of the bowl of ice water and inspected his reddened skin. There was a large blister forming on the side of his index finger.

“Hand down!” Frank jumped guiltily. Nurse Greta was blond and pretty and something of a hard ass. He stuck his hand back in the water. Motherfuck, that was cold.

This was all fucking Gerard’s fault. At art time, he had shown Frank how to heat up his burning iron and stood next to Frank while Frank tried it, guiding his hand while Frank made his first careful marks on a piece of practice wood. Then Gee had been called away to help some boys with the pottery kiln and when he’d returned, his breathy, “How’re you doing, Frankie,” in Frank’s ear had made Frank jump a mile. Frank had fumbled the wood burning iron and his finger slid over the hot element. Gerard had grabbed the tool out of Frank’s hand, placing it safely out of reach, and with his hand clutching Frank’s shoulder, marched Frank straight to the infirmary.

Frank closed his eyes. It fucking _hurt_. And now he looked like a spazz in front of Gee. This place had it in for him.

When Frank opened his eyes again, he saw Gerard hovering worriedly in the doorway to the infirmary, his eyes full of silent apologies.

“It’s okay, Gee,” Frank sighed. “Mom says I’m accident prone. And I don’t think this place is Frank-friendly.”

“I’m so sorry, Frankie.” Gerard crossed the room and knelt by Frank’s chair. He gently lifted Frank’s hand from the bowl, inspected it closely and then firmly shoved it back into the water. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“’S’okay.” Frank said. “I’m just a klutz.”

“You’re missing supper.” Gee was wringing his hands a little. “I could bring you a plate. We’re having mac and cheese with wienies, I think.”

“No, thanks, Gee. I’m, uh, vegetarian and I’m lactose intolerant.” Great. Now Gee would know Frank as weird food allergy guy, as well as a spazz.

“PB & J?” Gerard offered

PB & J. Frank was getting pretty fucking tired of peanut butter. Still.  
“Yeah, okay.”

“Great!” Gerard stood. “I’ll make us a couple of sandwiches and eat with you.” Gerard’s smile almost made Frank forget his aching fingers.

“Hey, Gee? Do you think you could bring me some coffee?”

 

_Another postcard. The handwriting seems to have deteriorated somewhat:_

_Toro-_

_I nearly burned my fingers off the other day. If this ruins me for guitar I’m going to be PISSED. This place is one land mine after another. Fuck._

_Brendon found my cigarettes but Mikey was able to score some from Gee. We sneak off after lights out to smoke. Mikey’s the kid I told you about, the Belleville kid. He’s learning bass. We should get him for our band. Gee’s his brother, the art guy. He’s really awesome. He looks like something out of a horror film._

_Gee’s coming to our campfire tonight. Mikey says he tells the best stories._

_Frank_

 

Gerard did tell awesome stories but Frank kept getting distracted by Gerard himself. His pale skin looked more ghostlike than ever in firelight, his eyes huge and shadowed. He sat cross-legged on the ground and gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke nearly in a whisper, his hands carving abstract shapes in the still night air. His arms seemed disembodied from the rest of him, protruding awkwardly from under some dark poncho-like thing. The other guys were hanging on Gee’s every breath. Frank could not stop staring.

When the fire had died down to embers, Brendon passed around marshmallows and graham crackers and chocolate bars for s’mores. Thank fucking Christ, _finally_ something Frank could eat. Gee was a weirdly painstaking marshmallow toaster for someone who lived like such a pig in the art cabin. He carefully constructed his snack and then took a huge bite, striping his cheek whitely with melted marshmallow. Frank had to look away or there was going to be licking.

When Brendon quietly announced bedtime, Mikey and Frank were given permission to walk Gerard to the end of the road leading to their unit. They walked quietly, passing a final smoke between the three of them. (“I shouldn’t.” “ _Gee._ ” “Shit, Mikey. Okay, just this once.”) When they got to the main road, Gerard stopped, giving Mikey a quick squeeze and grazing Frank’s shoulder with his knuckles.

“G’night, Frank,” Gee said. “This was fun. Tell Brendon thanks for inviting me.”

Frank toed the dirt a little. “That Four-Fingered Louie story would make a good comic.”

Gerard smiled. “I’ve drawn a few panels, actually. Remind me to show you tomorrow. Night, Mikes.”

“G’night, Gee. Coming, Frank?”

“Yeah. Night, Gee.” He turned to follow Mikey up the trail and then stopped and turned back. “Hey, Gee?”

“Yeah, Frank?”

Frank was staring at Gee again. “How did you end up here? At camp? I mean, I know why Mikey’s here. But you. You look like someone who’d rather paint in a cave.” Frank’s toes scuffed the dirt some more. “I don’t get it.”  
Gee grinned. “Basement, actually. I had this professor at SVA,” he said, his eyes soft-focused, remembering. “He taught me that the best art makes a difference. He recommended me for this job.” Gerard laughed his odd high-pitched giggle. “I thought he was fucking nuts, you know?” Frank nodded. “But I needed a summer job. And they threw in a kind of scholarship for Mikey so he could come with me. He likes it. Well, mostly. A little more this year.” Gerard smiled at Frank. “I think we can thank you for that. And I like it. I like to see kids creating. I like the boys. Even Bert, most of the time. And there was this guy, Pete, last summer...” Gerard shook his head, breaking the reminiscence. “You’re right, Frankie. Left to my own devices I’d be drawing in my basement. But I’m making a difference here. I like that more than anything.”

 _I like you_ , Frank thought. Gee’s face was glowing with this weird sincerity. Frank couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Now, go. It’s late.” Gee gestured up the road. “See you tomorrow, Frankie.”

“See you tomorrow, Gee,” Frank answered, turning and hurrying after Mikey.

 

That night Frank tried to jerk off but kept getting distracted by memories of Gerard’s soft voice and glowing sincerity. He fell asleep clutching his dick like a lifeline.

 

_In a stack of “Dear Mom” postcards:_

_Dear Mrs. Iero,_

_Just a note to let you know how Frank is progressing. He seems much livelier than when he first arrived at Camp Arrowhead._

_The kitchen staff is working more closely with the nurse to devise meals that Frank can enjoy within his dietary restrictions._

_He is well liked in the cabin and appears to have made a friend._

_Frank is enthusiastic about arts and crafts, although he doesn’t appear to enjoy water sports very much._

_I am certain that Frank will look upon his camp experience with great fondness._

_Brendon_

 

“Frank, come on. At least try it. I think you’d like canoeing.” Brendon’s eyes were imploring.

“I can’t swim!” Frank yelled, stomping his foot. He narrowed his eyes. “And Ieros don’t wear life jackets.”

Brendon deflated like an old party balloon.

 

_On official camp stationery:_

_Dear Mrs. Iero,_

_I am writing to inform you of a situation concerning your son Frank._

_It appears that he took an unsupervised hike with another boy during boating period and managed to fall into a patch of poison ivy. The boys are instructed how to identify the plant in order to avoid it, however, many of them have trouble when encountering it in the wild._

_Most campers are able to return to their activities with a mild case of poison ivy, as long as they avoid direct sunlight and don’t allow themselves to become overheated. However, in Frank’s case, with his weakened immune system and given the blistery nature of the rash, we are worried about a secondary infection._

_We are keeping Frank comfortable in the infirmary until we know what your wishes are. I understand you may find it difficult to make other arrangements for Frank at such short notice. Are there any family members who might take Frank for the remainder of the camp session?_

_Rest assured we are doing our best to keep Frank entertained during his convalescence. The staff are taking turns visiting him and his friend Michael has been allowed to spend his rest hour with Frank._

_If you need to reach me, please call the camp office and press option 3._

_Sincerely,_

_Greta Morgan_

_Camp Nurse_

 

In the infirmary, Frank never touched his dick once. What if the rash _spread?_

 

Brendon had lost a little of his bounce when he visited Frank after breakfast. Brendon loved camp so much, Frank thought, it probably made him sad for anyone to miss even a minute. Brendon was a giant dork, maybe the king of dorks, but Frank kinda liked the guy.

“We made this during art period yesterday,” Brendon said and offered Frank an over-sized handmade card. “All the guys signed it.”

Frank grinned when he saw the front of the card. Gee had definitely had a hand in this. He’d drawn Stick Figure Frank, Intrepid Explorer, laid low by a Bush with Superpowers. The bush had menacing eyes and an evil grin and Max the Super Dog seemed to be squaring off with it. Frank opened the card. Everyone had signed it and some had drawn little pictures. Brendon had signed with a big loopy B. Mikey had written, “You’re so lucky, you missed the folk dancing” and dotted the “I” in Mikey with a sad face. Bert had drawn a red-spotted butt in one corner with the epitaph, “Scratch this.” Asshole.

“Thanks, Brendon,” Frank said. His bunkmate aside, this was really nice. “Tell the guys I really like it.”

“All the guys really miss you, Frankie,” Brendon said. “Can we sing you something before we head down to swimming? Everyone’s outside. Whatever you want.”

Frank grinned. “Sure, Brendon. That’d be nice. Anything. Surprise me.”  
When Brendon rejoined the group, Frank was not a bit surprised to hear him lead the guys in a rousing rendition of _Sarah the Whale_. Frank snickered. That song was a total earworm. When Frank’s meds kicked in, he dozed off still humming _In Frisco Bay there lived a whale..._

 

It was nearly lunch time when Gee sidled into the infirmary, carrying an oblong plank of wood. He looked even more disheveled than usual, greasy bangs falling into his eyes and absolutely filthy knees poking out of his jeans. His t-shirt had a massive hole under one arm and was liberally paint-spattered. He looked great.

“How’re you feeling, Frankie,” he asked, sitting down on the edge of Frank’s cot.

“Better if I don’t think about it, Gee,” Frank winced and adjusted his pillows so he could sit more upright. “It itches less if I don’t think about it.”

“Oops,” Gerald said guiltily. “Sorry.” He laid the wood across Frank’s lap. “I brought your plaque. You worked so hard on it; I didn’t want you to leave it behind. You could shellac it when you get home, or just rub some mineral oil into the wood. Or leave it plain, I guess. The grain is really nice.”

“Thanks, Gee.” Frank trailed his fingers over the wood, tracing the lines he’d made with the burning iron. The curve of the body was a little wobbly and one fret was a little crooked but he’d done his best to create from memory the graceful lines of the beautiful white guitar that hung in the front window of the Guitar Shack back home.

“I didn’t know you played.”

Frank shrugged. “My buddy Ray back home lets me noodle around on his guitar sometimes. But my dad is buying her for me when I turn sixteen in October.”

“Her?”

“Yeah,” Frank couldn’t keep a note of pride out of his voice. “This is Pansy, Gee.”

And then Frank launched into a list of specs that Gerard followed not at all. When Frank wound down, Gerard said, “Wow. You really know a lot about guitars, Frank.”

“My dad’s in a band,” Frank said proudly. “Drummer. My grandpa, too.”

“Awesome,” Gee said, reverently.

“Gee?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think music can make a difference, too?”

“I think music can make the most difference of all,” Gee said solemnly.

 

_On a postcard, with a borrowed sharpie:_

_Mom. MOM._

_Don’t come. PLEASE don’t come and get me._

_The rash is not that bad._

_I WANT TO STAY!!!!!!!!!_

_Love, Frankie_

_P.S. Can I transfer to the public school next year?_

 

On the last day of the session, Frank fidgeted all through the closing ceremonies. His right shin was still covered in poison ivy blisters and he was mosquito-bitten everywhere else. He was scratched, bruised and utterly filthy. He could not stop giggling.

Beside him, Mikey stood stoic as a statue.

And across the way, in that great circle of boys, Gee grinned at them both.  
When the circle broke, Frank ran to his mom and flung his arms around her neck.

“Mom!” he shouted, laughing and crying. “I had the best time!”

 

Epilogue

Frank did not, as it turned out, get to transfer to public school, but he got to see his best friend Mikey almost every weekend. Linda Iero liked Mikey. As she said to her sister, Marie, “Between the two of them, they have the energy of two normal boys.”

She did not, Frank had to admit, take as warmly to Gerard, but Frank wasn’t worried. He was sure she’d learn to love Gee as much as Frank did eventually.

 

 _To:_ ` frankieeye@bellenet.net`

 _From:_ ` mikeyfnway@hotmail.com`

_Subject: Star Wars Marathon_

__Dude. Gee’s coming home from school this weekend. Can you sleep over? Star Wars marathon, dude. All 6 eps, in order. You know how Gee is. Mom says Ray can come too.  
Mikey_ _

 

Holy fuck, Gee’s coming home. Frank is so there.

 

End

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Not, as they say, a happy camper](https://archiveofourown.org/works/478811) by [argentumlupine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumlupine/pseuds/argentumlupine)




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